


Sugar And Spice

by tielan



Series: Meeting Halfway [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 30 day challenge, Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Play nice,</i> Steve said, only half-joking. But Maria’s not ‘nice’ and never has been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar And Spice

**Author's Note:**

> 30 Day OTP Challenge: Day 8 - Shopping

Maria hates shopping.

In spite of the stereotype of women and shopping, she’d rather face a Council interrogation. At least with a Council interrogation, there’s the possibility that she might come out on top, with a sense of triumph and enemies defeated.

She comes out of shopping with sore feet, clothes that don’t fit, and groceries she forgets to eat.

Shopping and she are, if not mortal enemies, certainly not good friends.

She tries to explain this to Steve. At 0700 hours. On a Saturday. After a hard week and a late night.

“You won’t be shopping. I’ll be shopping. You’ll be accompanying me.”

Steve makes it sound so reasonable, and Maria knows he wouldn’t press it if she dug in. But, God, refusing him feels like she’s kicking a puppy. And yes, she’s kicked puppies before when they had to be kicked. This one doesn’t need to be kicked – at least, not right now.

Which is why she’s staring blearily around at a New York city market at 0800 on a Saturday morning, while Steve chats with the barista at the coffee stand.

This is the other thing about shopping that Maria hates. Conversations with complete – or nearly complete – strangers. Shop assistants. Fellow customers. Random people who seem to think that because Maria’s choosing things that they’re also choosing, she wants to talk about it. As any agent in SHIELD knows, Maria doesn’t do friendly. Not unless there’s information to be gotten out of it.

“Wakeup call,” Steve says, handing her a coffee.

“Too late,” she mutters. “I’m already awake.”

But she takes the coffee, and ignores the glances she keeps getting from the curious vendors as Steve moves in and out of the stalls, greeting many of them by name, and being greeted in return.

“Do you come here regularly?”

“Every second week. Sometimes every third week.” Steve glances sidelong at her. “You knew that.”

Maria digs her hand deeper into her pocket. The weather is warming as they move into spring, but the early mornings still have bite. “It’s one thing to know that you go to the markets regularly, it’s something else to actually see it. And there are a lot of people staring at us. Specifically me.”

“They’re just curious. Natasha’s come with me a couple of times.”

“So I’m not the first woman you’ve brought to these markets?”

“No. I mean, yes, but that was…” It may be evil, but Maria rather enjoys watching him stumble for words. “Just for that, I’m introducing you to the next person who says hello.”

“Hey, Steve!” The call comes right on cue. “Long time no see!”

Steve smiles and tugs at the sleeve of Maria’s jacket, pulling her along with him. “Play nice, Lieutenant.”

“Do I get an option otherwise?” Maria mutters. But she pastes a polite expression on her face as Steve tugs her in the direction of the stall where the big guy with the dark hair and the broad grin is waving a little cup in Steve’s direction.

“New pomodoro recipe,” says the man without preamble, almost shoving it into Steve’s hands. “Try it and tell me what you think. Hello, pretty lady.”

“I have a gun,” Maria tells him, and watches his eyes widen before he grins.

“I’m harmless. Just ask Steve.”

“He’s harmless,” Steve affirms. “Although his pasta sauces should come with a warning.”

Maria looks at Steve, who’s holding the little cup out to her. “Pasta sauce for breakfast?”

“Try it. Gio, this is Maria, by the way.”

“Another lady friend?”

“Yes.”

“So you _have_ brought other women here?” Maria spoons the pasta sauce into her mouth with a quirk of her lips as Steve gives her a look. The pomodoro sauce blooms rich flavour all over her tongue. “Nice.”

“Nice? _Nice_? That’s all you have to say?” Gio rolls his eyes. “Holy Mary, mother of God, draw your weapon and shoot me now. ‘Nice’?”

Maria finds the melodramatics amusing. “It’s food. It doesn’t taste terrible.”

“Do you live? Do you eat? Are you human? Have you tastebuds?”

Maria looks at Steve, who’s trying a cup of the sauce himself and is clearly savouring the taste. “It’s good. Garlic?”

“Just a smidge.” Gio grins. “You know I’m not going to tell you how much. Take a tub?”

“Sure. Got any of the pesto?”

“For you? Always. For bringing your lady-friend with no taste along…” Gio eyes Maria.

“I have taste,” Maria retorts. “I’m allowing myself to be seen in his company.”

“Allowing?”

Gio grins. “Okay, so she has a tongue, even if she has no taste…”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I _will_ take out my weapon and shoot you,” Maria says, not entirely joking. She let ‘pretty lady’ and ‘lady friend’ slide, but if he goes on about how else she’s going to use her tongue, then she _is_ going to bite back.

“Play nice,” Steve reminds her, more amused than worried.

“I haven’t drawn my weapon yet,” Maria replies. The look she gives Gio is the one she gives junior agents who’ve stepped out of line. She doesn’t expect it to have the same effect on a grown man that it does on the new recruits, but it does quell him, if only a little. At least until several other people wander up to the stall and start poking the little cups of pomodoro and asking questions.

Steve thanks Gio as they walk away. “You really don’t like shopping, don’t you?”

“That’s what I told you. And, for the record, I _was_ playing nice.”

“I know.” He shakes his head as he winds his fingers into hers. “That’s what scares me.”

What scares Maria – deep down inside where nobody sees - is how neatly Steve fits into the world.

They move through the growing crowds, hopscotching their way along the stalls, with Steve pausing at some to talk, at others to buy, always with a smile and an easy word for the people around him. And the stall owners react to him with a smile and a greeting, sometimes a sample of their wares, and often a package that’s specially made up just for him. Sometimes they try to give him their wares, but he always pays, with the quiet, reasonable courtesy that's just _him_ , down to the core.

“What is it?” Steve asks when he comes out of negotiations for a bottle of olive oil and finds her staring at him.

“Sometimes I forget that you weren’t always a hero.”

He stills, as though she said something troubling. “Is it that easy to forget?”

Maria shrugs, not sure what she wants to say or whether she wants to explain it.

The reason Abraham Erskine chose Steve above the other applicants for the serum was because he was a good man; a man whose body’s frailties couldn’t match the heart and soul he had within him. Looking at him now – healthy and handsome – it’s easy to forget that Steve Rogers is still the man he was before Dr. Erskine gave him the body of a hero.

And it’s hard to shake the feeling - the fear – that this man is made for better things than Maria can offer.

At moments like these, it troubles her that a man like Steve Rogers should be interested in a woman like her. As though she’s lured him in under false pretences.

 _Play nice,_ Steve said, only half-joking. But Maria’s not ‘nice’ and never has been.


End file.
